


hey, mr. stargazer

by cassiecasyl



Series: October Prompts 2020 [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Author is heavily projecting, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Sorry, Mental Health Issues, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Relapsing, Self-Harm, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Whumptober 2020, Worried Tony Stark, almost none actually, angst? probably., at least in the first part, not at lot of comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:53:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27005371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiecasyl/pseuds/cassiecasyl
Summary: Peter relapses. The next day, a criminal hits him pretty badly.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: October Prompts 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1954552
Kudos: 60
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	hey, mr. stargazer

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts Used:  
> Whumptober Day 10: Blood Loss + Day 18: "I think I'll just collapse right here, thanks" + Day 30: Wound Reveal
> 
> Title taken from the song [Straight Razor](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kujDa4D4EQ) by Matt Maeson
> 
>  **Trigger Warnings:** Self-Harm, Relapsing, Depression, Blood  
> While there is no graphic depiction of self-harm as it happens off screen, it is heavily dealed with. Please proceed with caution and stay safe!  
> I love you <3

His fists clenched and unclenched, hands anxiously and erratically moving. He shook his head, eyes wide and close to tears, so scared. No. He couldn’t… A shiver worked through his body, and demons picked up the melody of the wind to sing. It was storming in New York City, just as it was in Peter’s head. His gasping breaths joined the thunder in the texture of the dark clouds. He couldn’t disappoint them like that. Though, they wouldn’t ever have to find out. The guilt would be all his, but what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, would it? Fingers grazed over scarred skin, first gently, then digging into it and scratching. In shock, he stopped, holding his trembling hand away from his thigh. 

It wasn’t fair. How he didn’t fit, no one wanted him, he didn’t belong.  _ I don’t fit, I don’t fit, I don’t fit.  _ It was his personal mantra, repeated endlessly in moments like these. He was a cracked puzzle piece, never to click in again. The desperate urge underneath his fingertips only grew with every shallow breath stumbling out his mouth, but he didn’t want to relapse, did he? They’d never find out though. 

What was the point in staying clean when nobody gave a shit? Being clean was the norm. He didn’t fit. He’d gone months without a blade against his skin, at least by his own hand, but it was not like anyone congratulated him on trying, or succeeding. It was just expected. 

Frustrated, Peter briefly closed his eyes, letting tears escape. It was the middle of night, and he should be sleeping if he wanted to have any change at having a clear mind the next day. He was lost in his mind’s maze, spiralling down forever, no end in sight. Whenever he calmed down, the thoughts returned, and he was thrown in for another round. Groaning exasperatedly, he buried his face against his fists. He had to sleep, but at this rate he’d never get to.

Tears blurred his room, adding to the shadows. The razor blades in their little box on his desk taunted him with their siren’s call and fucked up promises. Peter was scared as he hesitantly reached out to grab them, contemplating it. 

~~~

“Peter, you seem to be injured. Should I call Mr. Stark?” Karen quipped up right as he stepped into the suit. Peter flinched at the reminder of last night’s deeds, and how they weren’t healing like they’re supposed to. It was worrying, to be honest. 

“No, Karen, it’s alright,” he assured her before climbing out of his window. 

It was a quiet night. The streets were still cold and wet from the storm, and though the city had quickly found its groove again, it seemed somewhat slow. Maybe, it was him, he thought then as he watched the masses come out of the underground station. A weight had been pulling him down all day, draining and exhausting him. It was his guilt, he presumed, or just a bad day. Nothing he couldn’t make up for by patrolling.

A cry for help awoke him, and he quickly swung down towards it. Just as he landed, the criminal looked up from where he was holding a knife threateningly at another guy. The victim ran as soon as he had the chance, and the thug gnarled. “Look what you’ve done, Bug-Boy! This was a perfect steal, and you had to ruin it. But that’s just what you do, isn't it? Ruin things.” 

Peter almost found himself nodding, but then deflected: “I’m not the one with the knife threatening innocent people here.” 

He went in to attack, shooting a web towards his arm which he quickly dodged. The man only laughed. “That’s my job, dipshit.” 

“Yeah, well, my job’s to catch criminals like you.” Spider-Man webbed up his arm, but the thug’s knife easily cut through it, and then only halted as it sliced deeply into Peter’s arm. He jumped back in surprise. 

“What? Are you scared already? You’re gonna cry for mommy to come get you?” He mocked Peter, stepping ever closer, holding out his knife. Peter watched him, observed his movement, his confidence in his weapon. He was nothing without that knife. 

“‘Course not!” He dropped and kicked his opponent’s feet from under him, taking him down and quickly securing the weapon. Then, he webbed up the man to the ground. “Who’s scared? Not me!” Without further ado, Peter left the crime scene. 

Pain steered through his arm as he swung, and Peter grinded his teeth together to stay in the moment. Tears blurred his vision that was decorated by little blotches. They distressed him, always dancing around, never on the same spot. Like a single pixel within TV static, he was unable to catch them. Peter almost face-planted into a building as Karen pulled him out of his thoughts. 

“Peter, you are in need of immediate medical attention. I advise against straining your arm further,” she informed him, and Peter shot out a web last minute to deviate his course from the building in front of him. “I have notified Mr. Stark.” 

Panic swept him over, infecting his mind and breath. “No!” He settled on a destination, a roof to land on, while he scrambled through mudded thoughts. “Don’t tell him, please, Karen!” 

“I am required to notify Mr. Stark should you need help. I’m sorry, Peter.” 

With the slightest contact to the ground, Peter’s feet slide out under him. Instinctively, he balled up and rolled over the gravel some dumbhead had decided to spread over the roof of this particular apartment building. “Fudge,” he swore, laying there, looking up at the dusking sky. No stars to see. 

His ankle throbbed slightly, adding to the pain, but Peter ignored it. Laying here, he felt strangely calm, and still so, so tired. Maybe, he could just close his eyes and drift away, then he wouldn’t have to face Mr. Stark. He could just forget about the guilt still sitting in his bones, and the confession that was sure to come. 

The cold from the stones underneath seeped into Peter’s body, sending shivers through him, and starkly contrasting with the warm blood flowing out his right arm. It was a weird sensation, and he blinked dazedly as a headache built behind his brows. “I wish there were stars,” he whispered, searching the darkening sky. 

His eyes were slowly falling shut, and Peter was ready to succumb to sleep, as Karen announced: “Incoming call from Tony Stark.” It made him jump, and filled his limbs with the energy of a thousand ants running around nervously. Peter hated it. He just wanted to sleep, was that too much to ask? 

“Hey, Peter, I’m on my way,” Mr. Stark greeted and Peter focused on the familiar sound of the thrusters in the background. It was calming, soothing, and lulling him back to where he wanted to be. “Just hang in there. How’re you feeling? Peter?” 

Peter hadn’t realized that he had needed a minute to answer. “Tired,” he provided, longing in the word. “I wanna go to sleep.” 

“Pete, listen to me. It’s important you stay awake, alright? Can you do that for me?” Peter hummed, wanting to close his eyes just for a brief second. Just a little bit. “How about you tell me what happened, hm?” 

He hadn’t expected the tears. The harsh memory of what he’s done, and the guilt which let him to be careless. He hadn’t paid enough attention. It was his fault he was laying here. Peter didn’t like how strangely okay he was with it, but he didn’t want to hurt Mr. Stark.  _ I already did _ , he remembered then, choking on the shame and digging his fingers into his thigh. 

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. 

“It’s okay, buddy,” Tony answered, “It’s gonna be alright. No need to apologize.” 

“I’m sorry,” Peter repeated. “I-,” he started, but the weight caught his tongue. He couldn’t. “I relapsed.” 

“Oh, Pete.” Metal arms wrapped around him, but somehow, they weren’t as cold as the ground. There was shock in his voice, and so much worry and hurt, and Peter knew it hadn’t been worth it. It never was. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Sh, it’s alright. You told me, and I’m proud of you for that, Pete. And next time, just remember our promise, alright?” 

“But-” 

“I don’t care what time it is. If you need to talk, I’m here.” Peter nodded, wide-eyed and crying. His eyes stared through him, having a glassy tint to them, reminding him of the impending threat that Peter’s injury was. “I suppose that’s from that criminal Karen told me about though?” he asked, pointing at the deep gash on his right forearm, trying to remain calm. But Peter only answered with another nod unlike his usually talkative self. Tony wrapped some cloth around the bleeding wound before he picked up his protegee with shaking hands. As he did so, Peter’s head lulled against his shoulder, sending further panic through his veins. 

Later, people wondered about the flash of red in the sky that night. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you need someone to talk to, you can find me on [tumblr](https://cassiecasyl.tumblr.com)


End file.
